


The Restaurant

by ClexaPuff



Series: clexa notice [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Burn Notice AU, F/F, Modern AU, Spies, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClexaPuff/pseuds/ClexaPuff
Summary: Part 2 of clexa notice.Clarke and Lexa go out to dinner and discuss their situation and meet a distressed bartender with a heart of gold who needs their unique assistance.Also, I do promise they're actually going to meet the client and find out what's up in the next chapter.UPDATE:I'm not going to be updating this anymore.Someone comment on here and somehow found my tumblr (which is creepy,because it's not linked) informing me that no one is interested in my melding of the characters that I'm doing and that it's just sacrificing good characterisation of Lexa and nobody cares about the burn notice aspect (which was kind of important to me, hence why I was writing it).I don't need the kind of negativity this is bringing into my life, I have a creative writing degree and published works. I was doing this for free to share my work with people who would enjoy it, and if that's not happening, I'm going to stop.





	The Restaurant

Unsurprisingly, Lexa's safehouse was nicer than the agency safehouses Clarke was used to, usually a crappy apartment in downtown with bare mattresses, bare lightbulbs and venison blinds. Unlike those, Lexa's was a nice, airy loft, in an up and coming warehouse district, with neighbours who might be artists, might be drug dealers...who knows, near a club.

"Wow, Lexa..." Clarke said, ducking aside from a group of young people with brightly dyed hair and body piercings, clearly headed to the club on the communal staircase. "This place is nice... How'd you score this?"

"You know, a little wheeling and dealing here..." Lexa answered, trailing her hand on the door frame.

"So..." Clarke started. "Where exactly do you wanna go to this dinner...?"

"There's a actually a restaurant downstairs..." Lexa trailed off. "It's nice."

"Okay," Clarke said. "I'll pay," she volunteered.

Lexa looked somewhat taken aback.

"You'd do that?" Lexa asked.

"Yeah..." it was Clarke's turn to trail off. 

She really did feel bad about the way things had ended back in Polis and she wished she had the relationship skills to find the words and feelings to tell Lexa, but her life had left her too badly scared for anything to be as simple as that.

"I want to," Clarke finished simply, her voice turning husky in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the awkwardness.

"Okay then," said Lexa. "After you."

She pulled herself back from the door frame and trailed the hand that had been on it across Clarke's chest, ghosting over her shoulder and her bandages in unnecessary physical contact that Clarke hoped Lexa hadn't noticed made her breath catch in her throat.

Clarke stood there, paralysed for a moment before Lexa broke her out of her trance.

"Hey, are you coming?" Lexa called back up the stairs.

"So..." Lexa started the conversation to break the silence.

They had gone down to the restaurant, been seated, given menus, and taken drink orders and had been sitting in awkward silence waiting for the other to speak first.

"Where have you been these last few years?"

"You know I can't tell you that, Lexa..." Clarke started.

"Of course not," Lexa started, annoyed. "They take you here, abandon you, shoot you in the shoulder, dump you here in Arcadia, and you still have to protect them..." Lexa trailed off and looked down before continuing again in a slightly wounded voice. "It's not like you have any other loyalties that might supersede that."

"Lexa, you know what I mean..." Clarke started.

"Things could have worked out with us, Clarke," Lexa cut in.

"Lexa, you were robbing banks for the TRA..." Clarke started again.

"It's not like the Arcadians didn't come colonise our world like they owned it," Lexa said. "As far as I' concerned, you were in just as problematic a position as a spy for Arcadia. There are still people who wouldn't forgive me for dating an Arcadian spy."

Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again. After a minute she spoke again.

"Not you?" she asked.

"No," Lexa said, looking down and avoiding eye contact. "Never you..."

"I...don't know what to say, Lexa..." Clarke said.

"Then don't say anything," Lexa said matter of factly. She picked up her menu. "Let's just order." 

"You earned a lot of credit with my people with your actions at Mt. Weather," a slightly drunk Lexa declared, shoving Clarke through the swinging door into the hallway that lead towards the kitchen, the bathrooms, and backup the stairs to Lexa's safe house and up against the wall covered in concert posters and pinups. She kissed Clarke under her chin before pulling back slightly to look her in the face again. "You know what they call you?"

Clarke shifted and swallowed uncomfortably. She wasn't entirely comfortable with her actions at Mt. Weather, but she knew coming from Lexa and in this context, it was meant positively, not negatively.

"Wanheda..." Lexa said, moving to kiss Clarke on the mouth before pulling away again. "It means..."

"Commander of Death, I know..." Clarke said.

Lexa pulled away and hesitated. She could tell by Clarke's tone that this had been the wrong tact and right now she wanted to steer this away from becoming a mood killer. 

"It's a term of respect among my people," Lexa said. "They call me Heda because I'm their commander...it means they respect you..."

Lexa trailed off and returned to kissing Clarke and, because Clarke wasn't particularly interested in letting this turn into a mood killer either, she dropped it and returned her attention to Lexa, reaching for her and starting to pull her close.

Just then, Clarke heard something that made her pause and listen.

Voices. It sounded like an altercation, but not like two equals having a fight. Clarke had been around the world in her business enough times to know the sound of someone being bullied by someone else.

Lexa noticed Clarke had stopped engaging and paused and looked at her.

In response Clarke just pointed over her shoulder at kitchen door where the noise seemed to becoming from. Lexa cocked her head and listened.

"I don't care what your excuses are," said a venomous male voice through the door. "I don't wanna hear any sob story about needing to pickup your little sister."

"But I was only 3 minutes late and I got somebody to cover for me," a female voice protested. 

"Last week it was wanting to let your waitresses wear their wedding rings just because they're married," the male voice paused. "As if any man wants to be waited on by a married cocktail waitress. Let alone one who's not into guys."

"Oh hell no," said Lexa under her breath.

"Wait," Clarke said, putting a hand on Lexa's arm.

"I don't care if your mommy's in prison, that's not my problem," the male voice said.

"You're hurting my arm," the female voice said.

Clarke looked down at Lexa.

"Okay, time to go," Clarke said under her breath.

Lexa drew a gun and looked to Clarke.

Clarke shook her head, no, and pointed at Lexa in a strong gesture telling her to stop.

"Let me try another tactic," Clarke said.

Clarke pushed through the door, pretending to stumble.

"Wait...this isn't the bathroom," Clarke said, a faux slur in her voice.

She looked over to see the a strawberry blonde girl with sleeve tattoos she recognised from earlier as the bar tender being viscously gripped on the upper arm by a man in a business suit.

"Wait, what's going on here?" she pretended to slur.

"Nothing," the man spat.

He gave the girl one last look in the eyes.

"This isn't over," he said.


End file.
